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Behind her the metal blade hurtled downward from the apex of the moon gate arc, slicing through the reed mat at the precise spot where the exposed back of her neck had been a split second before, burying itself in the floor beneath.
Oh, sorry, I almost forgot, said Phule, preparing to return to the hallway and resume the conversation via wrist communicator. I can answer that, sir, said Beeker, rising from a desk to one side of the room, where he'd been using his Port-a-Brain pocket computer.
It was directly behind the Heroes Monument, the carved calligraphy over the huge doors proclaiming it to be the Chairman Mao Memorial Hall. Two lines were moving up the steps, guards separating the individual groups.
Chairs and tables seemed to part in his path as he swept off through the diners like a sailing ship through algae, drawing me along in his wake.
He rose up and in three strides had crossed the room. He pulled aside the curtain to peer out. Gusts blew the pelting rain in against his face as he leaned out to look both ways.